Chapter 30
Author's Notes:
Well, this should answer any lingering questions, as it’s the chapter wherein I complete my lore. As some of you have already guessed, I left some crucial details out when Giles and Spike were telling Buffy about the nature of slayers. The no-slayer-can-be-a-vampire thing is going to be addressed, as well as a full explanation as to why (I left out some of the finer details in my author’s note a few chapters back). And though I know it seems I’m going that way (despite what I said to the contrary), I say again…Buffy will not be a vampire in this story (*see ending note).
A part of my lore in this comes from my thoughts while watching Angel, Season 2 for the first time years and years ago. When Darla was sired again by Drusilla, she became the same vampire all over again, even though Dru was NOT the sire she’d had the first time around. This led me to believe that once a demon has claimed a body, the body becomes untouchable to other demons. It’s marked, in other words. I’ve been waiting for a story wherein to explore this thought for a long while, and though Echoes is my first, there’s every chance it will not be my last.
Voting for best “Art Before Fic” submission has commenced over at Spuffy Haven. To cast your vote for Echoes (and any of the other wonderful submissions) please visit:
VOTE!!!As always, thank you all so much for your enthusiasm and feedback. <3
Spike slept all day, and she was glad. He needed sleep. He’d spent the night pacing her watcher’s floor and debating their blatantly fictional options, shaving centuries off his eternal lifeline over worry for her. They’d made love that morning, and sometime in the sweet aftermath, he’d finally found rest. Curled against her, murmuring incoherent words with every other breath, the arm around her tightening when his dreams took an ugly turn. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep, but it was sleep. And it was what he needed.
Buffy had lain with him a long time, convinced Giles would knock if her presence was required. It eventually occurred to her that she’d just had sex in her surrogate father’s bed and had been rather unapologetically loud about it. Flushing with shame—which was a nice distraction from fear—she shimmied into her sweat pants, double-checked her hair for adequate fluffiness and a hopeful dose of why-no-I-wasn’t-sinning-rampantly-in-your-bed-why-do-you-ask, and headed downstairs.
She still only had on Spike’s t-shirt as far as clothing went. If Giles insisted she concoct another bogus sleepover to appease her mother, she might need to schedule a clothing-run. As comfortable as her mate’s clothing was, it made her feel way too aware of herself, not to mention sexual. And again, while sexual was a step away from fear, and therein a step in the right direction, it wasn’t something she aimed to feel while under her watcher’s roof.
Buffy inhaled sharply. She didn’t know if she could face Giles just yet, but she similarly knew she couldn’t keep doing nothing.
Her aversion to doing nothing had always been a problem.
“Just a warning,” she called as she turned to make her way downstairs. “I haven’t showered, my hair’s a mess, and I’m overall a cranky slayer, so, even this is your house, if…” Her foot met the floor just as her eyes found Angel’s. “Ummm…hi.”
The vampire did nothing. Said nothing. He just looked at her. His chocolate eyes, while always haunted with ghosts, were positively stricken as they took in her disheveled form as though he’d seen death itself hovering over her shoulder as she made to join them.
“Ahem,” Giles coughed pointedly into his tea, offering her a tired, however sincere smile. “There you are.”
“What time is it?”
“Just past sunset. Angel…ahh…” He inhaled sharply and glanced down. “He just arrived.”
Buffy blinked in surprise. Past sunset? That didn’t sound right. Only a few hours had passed since Spike woke her with the tender caress of his hands. He hadn’t been asleep all that long. It
couldn’t be past sunset. Had she really wasted an entire day in bed?
As though reading her mind, Giles placed his teacup aside and took a step forward. “Don’t worry,” he said, his voice kind and reassuring. “It was likely better that you rest.”
Okay. When her watcher advocated sleep over research, he was either overly confident or he was throwing in the rag. Judging by the way he wasn’t screaming and breaking things—or worse, polishing his glasses—she cast her bet in the former category and hoped against hope her intuition paid off.
“Angel just arrived,” he said again, motioning to the sofa with a quick nod of his head. “I believe he has some information for us.”
Buffy frowned, her legs unconsciously carrying her to the indicated sofa and sitting her down without her permission. Just as well. Even after being off her feet all day, she felt this might be sit-worthy news. “Info?” she repeated, confused. “I didn’t know he was in the place to collect info.”
“Giles called me this morning,” Angel explained softly. “He told me everything.”
She pursed her lips. “Okay. Is this a scolding party or—”
“No. No scolding.”
“I strictly forbade scolding under my roof,” Giles added with a slight smile. “It feels so bloody awkward coming from someone who isn’t me.”
Buffy’s lips tugged upward in a grin. There was no arguing with that.
“So what’s the what?” she asked, resituating herself so she was sitting on her legs, careful to not reveal her lack of underwear. Damn Spike for having destroyed them earlier—and damn her for not tossing on whatever before coming downstairs. It appeared a nervous Buffy was a forgetful Buffy…even when it came to pants. “You have info? I’m in a pensive mood. Wanna share?”
Angel paused. “Where’s Spike?”
“Sleeping. And I’m not bothering him unless it’s something important.”
It seemed natural that the next thing she heard was the vampire-in-question’s voice. Her life was a walking pun like that.
“Consider him bothered,” Spike said, emerging from Giles’s bedroom. He was dressed only in his jeans, which, in Buffy’s mind, left very little to the imagination as to the nature of their sleeping arrangements. Then again, Angel and Giles were pretty much confirmed bachelors. Maybe they wouldn’t put two and two together.
Her hopes were dashed when Angel sniffed. She knew it the next second with the surprise-tinted jealousy that blazed across his eyes.
Damn vampires and their damn super-noses. If vamps got super-noses, slayers ought to get them, too. It was only fair since they were all equals on the having-of-demons front.
“What’s Granddad doin’ here?” Spike asked, making his way to the ground floor.
“I had him run some errands for me today,” Giles explained. His voice was conclusive in its no-arguing undertones. “About…what we discussed last night.”
“Might wanna be a bit less vague on the details, Rupes,” the blond vampire retorted. “We talked about loads last night, ‘f memory serves.”
“This is about the loophole.”
Spike froze, his eyes widening in shock. “Din’t know we’d found one,” he replied cautiously. “Unless you’re talkin’ about what you better
not be talkin’ about.”
Buffy frowned and raised her hand. “Did I miss something?”
“No,” Spike said sharply.
“Look,” Angel interjected with a weary sigh, “I don’t like it anymore than you, but I’ve been doing my homework today.”
“’S funny, that is. Right joke. Don’ seem to remember invitin’ you here at all.” Spike’s brows perked and he tossed Giles a pointedly accusatory glare. “Did you invite this git—”
“Yes,” Giles replied unapologetically. “I rather think, given the circumstances, that the two of you might be able to put aside any lingering hostilities you hold for each other and focus on the problem at hand.”
Buffy waved a little. “Hi. I’m the problem.”
Spike looked wounded at that. “You’re not the problem, kitten. You’re—”
“The reason we’re all here. The reason the world’s in jeopardy. In my book, this spells problem.” She held up a hand. “Yes, I know. It’s hard not to hear the entire ‘the world’s gonna end’ thing when tempers are high.”
“Sweetheart—”
She shook her head and waved again. “No. I don’t…
we don’t need to get into that right now.” She paused and expelled a deep breath and met Angel’s eyes, subconsciously shifting to make room for Spike. He was at her side in an instant, his arm wound protectively around her waist. There were no words but the message was clear. He was making his territory well known. And with as much of her inner I-am-woman resented being marked, there was a part of her which swelled with pride. “So…with the news.”
He swallowed hard and nodded. “I went…I went to the factory.”
That meant nothing to her. “Ummm…good for you?”
“’S where I was staying, love,” Spike whispered, tensing almost imperceptibly. Not enough to worry her; just enough for her to notice. “Where I went when Dru an’ I firs’ came to town.” He fell silent, his brow furrowing with contemplation. Then, quietly, he asked, “You went for the books, din’t you?”
Angel nodded.
“Books?” Buffy demanded. “What books?”
“Books on the Slayer,” Angel replied, not taking his eyes off Spike. “He’s been collecting them since I first mentioned the Slayer to him back…oh, God, however many years ago that was. It’s…well, probably the most extensive library on the Slayer not in the possession of the Council.”
Spike shifted almost uncomfortably. Buffy grinned and reached for his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze.
The words didn’t need to be said; she heard them loud and clear.
He had books because he’d been looking for her…whether he knew it or not.
“You find ‘em, then?” Spike asked, returning her hand’s squeeze with one of his own. “Dru jus’ hand them over?”
“It took some persuading. She’s…” Angel’s eyes fell and a shadow crossed his face. “She told me something. I don’t think she meant to…she’s convinced she just…let you go for a while.”
Buffy’s brow furrowed and something within her growled. “Dru’s got a bitch fight coming if—” Spike kissed her temple and the rage dissipated, but only slightly. A long breath rolled off her shoulders. “…she thinks…ummm…”
“Dru doesn’t understand,” Angel agreed, nodding. “She thinks it’s a game. She thinks…she thinks it’ll be over and Spike’ll—”
“What?” the blond vampire barked. “Crawl back to her? Beg her forgiveness? The loony bint actually thinks—”
Angel’s hands came up. “Don’t stake the messenger.”
“But it would make me feel
so much better.”
Giles cleared his throat loudly and tempers abated. It was amazing how much authority rested in one man’s throat. “Please,” he said softly. “Angel, continue.”
There was a short pause; the elder vampire nodded but shot a dark glare in Spike’s direction. “She referred to Buffy as…as sunshine. And how the sunshine was going out…how night was coming.”
“That’s what Dru does,” Spike all but growled. “She talks in bloody riddles. She—”
“—she said night has to fall before the sun rises again.” Angel quirked a brow. “That sounds a bit less like a riddle and more like a vision, don’t you think?”
The vampire at Buffy’s side offered a pouty scoff. “Vision wrapped in riddle, maybe.”
Angel’s eyes fell shut and his face hardened. It was the look he always exuded when he was fighting for patience. “She said the only way for…for the Slayer to live…was if she died.”
Buffy frowned, a cold wind blowing through her skin. “I see,” she said, her voice strained. “And in the category of ‘things we already knew’…”
“I don’t think she meant it like that,” he replied softly. “I don’t think she meant the Slayer line. I think she meant
you.” The room fell deathly silent. Giles and Spike traded furtive glances.
“I…” Buffy didn’t realize how hard she was trembling until her mate again brushed his lips across her temple, his fingers tightening around hers. The touch was brief but it gave her strength. “I don’t follow,” she said.
A long sigh ran down Angel’s spine. “Look…I don’t like this, but I’ve been looking at it all day. I got the…I got what books I could from Dru before she started…well, before she had one of her infamous mood swings.”
Spike snickered appreciatively but didn’t say anything.
“I think she means…Buffy, I think Dru means in order for you to live, you have to be turned.”
Her ears filled with a loud, piercing hum, her eyes losing their focus. Images blurred and lost shape. “T-turned?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper. Suddenly she found herself propelled into a parallel universe in which a little boy in a coma could inflict one’s worst fear on their subconscious and make it tangible. She remembered the way ridges felt against her brow. The way her stomach had gargled and growled. The alien feel of fangs in her mouth and the nauseating need for blood. She remembered it all.
She was going to be sick.
“No,” Spike growled. For a minute, she thought she’d insulted him with her reaction, but when objects materialized again, she found him glaring at Angel. “You can’t—”
“Look—”
“Turned?” Buffy repeated, her voice ascending octaves. “I hope you mean into a frog…or…or a…” Her eyes flooded with tears. “Well, I don’t know what else, but that’s the only kinda turning I want on the table.”
Giles did the throat-cleary thing again. “Buffy—”
“Tell him I’m not gonna be turned,” she demanded.
“You’re not gonna be,” Spike whispered reassuringly. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“You might not have a choice,” Angel snapped. “You’d rather sacrifice her than give
anything a try?”
Spike snarled, his eyes blazing yellow, a ripple of fierce possessiveness and rage spearing through his body so potently that Buffy rocked with the aftermath. “What you’re talking about isn’t a sodding try. It’s
murder, you bloody pillock!” he snarled, tearing himself from her side and leaping to his feet. “You’d really risk her life over somethin’ that might bloody well
kill her?”
“Her life is going to
end if we don’t do something!” the elder vampire shot back. “Nothing can stop that, Spike. Believe me. I’ve looked.”
“You spent a
day porin’ over those books—”
“I could spend the rest of this century and most of the next searching for a different way; there’s not one. What’s more, you
know it.” It was a rare day when Angel got so worked up with any emotion that his chest actually heaved with gasps and his eyes burned with anger. “You know there’s no other way.”
There was a long pause. “This could kill her,” Spike repeated, anger evaporating for a more palpable wave of utter devastation. “’F I do this…it could kill her.”
“If you don’t, you’ll kill her anyway.”
Buffy licked her lips, the ringing in her ears still deafening and the heat crashing over her skin doing its best to rob her of consciousness altogether. She swallowed hard, fighting to keep her mind straight, which proved more than difficult with all the yelling. “I…this really is the only…the only way?” she asked. “Turning me into a vampire—”
“You wouldn’t be a vampire,” Giles said immediately. “Slayers cannot be turned into vampires.”
The fire eating her insides washed away with the most potent wave of relief she’d ever known. Buffy exhaled deeply, thanking her lucky stars that she wasn’t on her feet, else she knew she would’ve fallen over. “You might’ve mentioned that to me to begin with,” she said, her palms flattening against her knees as her thundering heart fought for some strain of normalcy. “Beginning after my nightmares last year. Jeez. You guys nearly gave me an aneurism.”
No one was laughing. No one was rushing to reassure her. Instead, when she glanced up, she found herself the target of three sets of very empathetic eyes. Angel looked pained. Giles was torn beyond repair. And Spike seemed to be fighting an inner war, determined to both give her space and comfort her with his presence.
“You wouldn’t be a vampire,” Giles repeated, “but there is…there is something that would happen. It’s never been successful, Buffy…attempting…to do what Angel is suggesting.”
She swallowed. Hard. “Do what?”
“No one can have two demons inside them,” Spike said shortly. “When you get turned, your soul leaves your body an’ a demon takes over.”
“But because of your daimon, your soul cannot be removed…at least, this is what Paimon has led us to conclude,” Giles continued. “And your daimon cannot be removed because it is a part of who you are.”
Oh right. The demon thing. She’d nearly forgotten.
The watcher drew in a deep breath. “Your dominant trait is human, as I told you last night. Essentially, when we speak of ‘turning’ a slayer, what we mean is reversing nature’s process…and making her human side recessive and her demon dominant. If successful, there is nothing ostensibly which would change. You would, understandably, be stronger. Much…
much stronger. You would also be tapped into the vampiric lifeline.”
“Meaning…”
“As a demon, and the Yin to the vampire’s Yang, you would no longer age.”
Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’d be immortal.”
“An’ damn hard to kill. Pure slayer concentrate, an’ all that,” Spike agreed softly. “But it’s not gonna happen, love. It can’t. No slayer has ever survived the change.”
“You’d rather her die at the hands of the Hell King, then?” Angel snapped.
“’d rather find an’ answer that won’ only
maybe work.”
“There isn’t time for that! There’s—”
“Why has it never worked?” Buffy asked, amazed when her soft voice was able to slice so effectively through the screaming. “Why has this…the turning…”
“As Spike said,” Giles replied, jumping into the conversation so quickly it would have been funny under different circumstances, “no person…no
vampire, even…can host two demons at once. When a move is made to turn a person into a vampire, it involves a demon invading the host. You already have a daimon. What would ensue would essentially be war over your body…and since you are human, there is no way you would be able to withstand it.”
Buffy frowned. Her ears were beginning to ring again. “But I thought…with the strong and the immortal and—”
“You can’t possibly be thinkin’ about doing this,” Spike barked.
“I’m thinking about it.”
Her heart broke at the agonized fear that commanded his body, pouring through the endless windows of his eyes and sending him to his knees beside her in a blink.
“Buffy…this’ll kill you.”
“I’m gonna die anyway.”
The words sounded so foreign on her tongue.
“Not if…we’ll find another way, baby. We’ll find—”
“This is the way,” Angel said softly. “Spike…I don’t like it anymore than you do—”
The blond vampire bared his fangs, though since he was facing Buffy, the glare went lost. “I think I can safely say I like it a whole bloody lot less,” he snarled.
“I don’t think that’s possible,” the other vampire retorted.
Buffy sighed. This was getting out of hand, and fast. The anguished fear burning through the claim was enough to make mountains bow in reverence. Spike was out of his mind with worry, and no indefinite answer would appease him. No half-and-half. No in-between. He wanted something concrete. Something tangible. He wanted something which didn’t exist.
“Will,” she whispered, shivering slightly when his eyes found hers again. “Whatever happens…it’s my choice.”
He shook his head, bright gaze blazing with tears. “Buffy, please…”
“It’s my choice. Whatever I…decide…if I want to do this, it’s my choice. This is mine.” She trembled, raising a hand to his cheek. “I’m telling you because I love you. But…whatever happens…the choice is mine.”
This wasn’t the time to bring up the past, but she knew well the memories her words evoked.
She also knew, feeling his sigh, that he knew she was right.
It was her choice. Just as dying for her had been his. Nothing could have changed his mind, and nothing would change hers.
His acquiescence didn’t make her heart break any less. She’d never seen him rigid with fear. She’d never felt him shake as hard as he was shaking. And even when she tried to placate him with a soft, reassuring kiss, she tasted nothing but his tears.
“I can’t lose you,” he whispered against her lips, his voice barely audible. “Not again.”
“Then we should listen to them. Angel wouldn’t suggest something guaranteed to kill me if he didn’t think there was a way.” Her eyes shifted to the elder vampire in the corner, whose expression had grown predictably morose at their display. “Neither would Giles. Please…let’s just hear what they have to say. Okay?”
Spike didn’t look so convinced, but he similarly understood there was no talking her out of it. With a reluctant, tortured nod, he lifted himself upon the sofa again, curling his arm around her waist. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t need to say anything. His actions spoke louder than words ever could.
When she felt it was safe to speak again, Buffy wasted little time getting back to the question at hand. Her attention shot back to Giles. “You said I wouldn’t survive the turning because of the…the battle between inner daimon me and outward vampire…whatever. But if I’m all with the strong, then why wouldn’t I be able to kick the vampire-demon’s ass?”
A soft, sad smile drew across her watcher’s face. “The demon would attempt to possess your body when you’re still human. The struggle which would ensue would be your inner daimon battling the demon out, and asserting her claim on your body. This is where slayer turnings fail, you see. The inner daimon isn’t strong enough because it’s a recessive trait. The daimon is killed, and the demon takes over the Slayer’s body.” He paused. “But…once tainted, a body cannot withstand the inhabitance of another.”
Buffy frowned, squeezing Spike’s knee when he trembled and hugged her into his side. “Okay,” she said slowly. “Meaning…?”
“It’s like a soul, really. Souls cannot exist in a form that is not their host body or the Ether. They can for a time, but not indefinitely. Eventually, the body will reject the soul and shove it out. The same thing can be said for demons.” He nodded to Spike. “Paimon modeled William to be the same flesh, the same body, the same soul when he adhered to your bargain. Therein, the same demon was the only acceptable candidate when he was sired by Drusilla. Any other demon would have killed him. When slayers are…for lack of a better word, sired, they either die during their battle for their body…or they die after the invading presence has won. The body rejects the demon…and they cease to be.”
Buffy inhaled sharply, the clockwork of her mind working fiercely to keep up with all the information being shot her way. “So…in a perfect world…”
“Your daimon would prevail over the invading presence and become the dominant trait,” Giles concluded. “It has simply never happened.”
“And nothing would change?”
“Nothing,” Angel agreed. “Beyond what Giles has told you. You would become immortal and much, much stronger than you are now…but you would still be able to walk in sunlight. You’d still be able to ingest human food. You…would still be
human, Buffy, because the daimon depends on your humanity for survival.”
Buffy arched a brow. “Is everyone suddenly an expert on me and the daimonness that is…me?”
Angel frowned and shuffled quietly. “I told you I did a lot of reading today,” he replied self-consciously.
“But it’s never happened!” Spike erupted, his grip on her waist growing so tight it would likely take a crowbar to separate them. “’S never worked! Slayers have tried an’ they’ve died for their bloody efforts. We have no sodding reason to think it would work—”
“Yes, we do,” Angel said. “Buffy has something no other slayer has ever had. And that’s why I think…that’s why this is our best chance.”
“Oh really? Some secret weapon, is it?” Spike snapped. “Well, your holiness, by all means…enlighten us.”
There was a long, pregnant silence. No one moved. No one blinked. No one breathed.
Then Angel was speaking again, and the air vibrated around his words.
“She has you.”
TBC
A/N P.2: Admittedly, when I first began outlining this story, I’d intended for Buffy to become a vampire. It was more a prompt in the banner-guidelines than anything…but one of my betas is very, very anti-Buffy!vamp fics, and though she didn’t know it until after I’d made up my mind, I decided to start researching another venue to adhere to this sort of storyline without turning Buffy fangy. I’ve always wanted to do something on the concept of “daimons,” which, as has been mentioned in text, is the root word for “demon” and in its original context is neither malevolent nor benign. My decision to keep Buffy human, more or less, allowed me to play with the concept and attempt to fold it into Whedonverse without breaking away from canon.
The decision NOT to turn this into a Buffy!vamp fic was made before I started writing it, in the final draft of the outline. I knew it would seem like I was veering in that direction, and in a sense, it was intentional to throw everyone off…which, of course, I shot down in my author’s note a few chapters back. I stand by what I said: Buffy
will not become a vamp, and the solution isn’t a “simple” vamping. A simple vamping would be everyday, mundane, and without the danger of dying in the process. Furthermore, while the method of transformation might be similar, the outcome is going to be incredibly different. Also…if you really want to get technical, I said she’d never become a vampire. I didn’t say she wouldn’t be sired. :P
So yes…in other words, I am very sneaky…but I’m also having fun playing around with ideas and concepts I haven’t had the chance to explore before.
Thank you all for your patience. Only three more chapters and an epilogue to go!